


Blood

by kaguya_yoru



Series: That Super Blood Wolf Moon Life [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, Vampire!Phil, Werewolf!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-08 08:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguya_yoru/pseuds/kaguya_yoru
Summary: “I know you’ve wondered why I’ve refused your blood,” Phil said gently. “It’s not because I don’t want it. Or because I don’t want you.”
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: That Super Blood Wolf Moon Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1324016
Comments: 23
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh, wow. This looks nice.”

“Nat picked it,” Clint blurted out, voice overly loud in the car. He bit his bottom lip, hands tightening on the steering wheel, and hoped fervently that vampire vision wasn’t good enough to see the redness he could feel spreading across his cheeks.

Phil smiled at Clint, small wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. “She has good taste,” he replied. “I’m sure we’ll have a great time.”

Clint felt some of the tension in his shoulders drain away at that smile. One year in and it still made him weak in the knees, brightened his day, and soothed his nights.

He would move heaven and earth if he had to for that smile.

“We’re up,” Phil said, nodding towards the windshield.

Clint snapped to attention, pressing on the gas pedal to move the last few feet. There was a brief embarrassing fumble over the keys - Clint had already pocketed them, blanking on the fact that he was supposed to actually leave them with the valet - and then they were heading into the restaurant. Clint swallowed hard at first sight of the elegant interior, feeling distinctly out of place. It didn’t matter that he was wearing a suit every bit as expensive as Phil’s or that it had been a long time since he’d even stepped foot in the state of Iowa, there was a part of him that would always feel like a country hick. A feeling that only intensified while he stammered his way though saying his name to the hostess and when he almost upset a tray a waiter was carrying on the way to their table.

They settled into their seats, Clint with a relieved sigh that he hadn’t managed to cause any more damage. The interior of the restaurant was just as swanky as the outside: high vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, crisp white linen tablecloths. Clint was afraid to touch anything. Hell, he was afraid he’d somehow break something if he breathed too hard. 

“Your waitress will be right with you,” said the hostess. Before she had even finished speaking, a man came up beside her holding a metal pitcher, condensation coating the sides. The hostess was definitely human but Clint caught the scent of a wolf as the waiter leaned over his table setting to pour. Ice water clinked into their water glasses, menus were handed over, and then the two of them hurried off in separate directions to attend to other customers.

“Breathe, Clint.”

Clint let out a shaky laugh. “Is it that obvious that I’m nervous? It’s just - ” he bit his lip. “I just want this night to be perfect.”

Phil smiled. “It already is,” he said. He held out his hand across the crisp white linen tablecloth for Clint to take. As always, the tips of Phil’s fingers unerringly found the pulse point on the underside of Clint’s wrist. A gentle press of the cool digits made Clint acutely aware of the blood rushing through his delicate veins. “I’m here with you.”

Clint relaxed even further at the words and the gentle hold. His lips curved into a fond smile as his gaze traced the familiar planes of Phil’s face. By now, he’d memorized every peak and valley and there was a certain comfort in knowing that they would never change. Phil would always be Phil, no matter what. 

“Welcome to _Sangre_!” their waitress announced as she stepped up to their table. Her teeth flashed in a pearly white smile. “Thank you for choosing to dine with us tonight. Have you been here before?”

Both of them shook their heads.

“Well then, house rules first then. By the way, my name is Ariel.” She grimaced a little and held up one hand. “And yes, with my red hair, I’ve heard all the jokes but I was born ten years before the movie came out.”

There was a brief moment of disconnect in Clint’s brain - there was no way the young woman in front of them was forty years old - before he realized that she was also a vampire. She must have been turned when she was fairly young because she looked like she was barely in her twenties.

“So, the house rules,” Ariel continued. “No biting, no shifting, and we’ll make sure you have a bloody good time.”

Clint raised his eyebrows. “Are those really the house rules?” he asked. They seemed more suited to a beach shop than the ritzy restaurant they were currently in.

Ariel shrugged her shoulders. “More or less,” she said. Her lips curved into a wicked grin. “My way is more fun to say and I’m sure you get the idea.”

Clint grinned. He liked Ariel.

“Our special drink tonight is the Lover’s Embrace. For our non-_sanguinistas_,” Clint saw Phil wince slightly at the non-word, “it’s a blackberry mulled wine. For the thirsty vamp, it’s your choice of fresh human or animal blood.”

"Human?" Clint blurted out. His heart sped up and he resisted the urge to glance at Phil. It didn’t matter. Phil’s fingertips were still on his wrist and from the way he stilled, Clint could tell that Phil was very much aware that his pulse had quickened.

Ariel's grin widened. "Oh yes, we are proud to be the first restaurant in New York City to offer human blood," she said brightly. "All of our donors are willing volunteers and they are thoroughly tested prior to donation. If you have any particular preferences,” she gave them a saucy wink, “we’ll do our best to accommodate."

She went on to describe the food specials but Clint was no longer listening. Now he knew why Nat chose this restaurant and, secure in the knowledge that he was clear across town from her at the moment, he cursed her to hell and back in his mind. It was the one sore spot in their relationship. The one shadow marring his happiness.

Phil refused to drink his blood.

“Ariel,” said Phil softly, interrupting her spiel. His gaze was intent on Clint and he could feel it as if it were tangible. “Could you give us a moment?”

Clint gently pulled away from Phil’s grasp as soon as she was gone.

“Clint,” said Phil.

He picked up the menu and scanned it with unseeing eyes. Clint knew he was dropping all kinds of tells but he desperately wanted to avoid this conversation with every fiber of his being.

“Clint.” 

Clint gripped the menu tighter. He really, really did not want to talk about this. It was their anniversary. He just wanted them to have a nice dinner, go home, and then spend the rest of the evening decidedly not talking.

“Look at me. Clint, please.”

That did it. He could never ignore Phil when he said please. Reluctantly, Clint dragged his gaze upwards. The kindness in Phil’s eyes was almost too much to bear but Clint forced himself to hold his gaze.

“I know you’ve wondered why I’ve refused your blood,” Phil said gently. “It’s not because I don’t want it. Or because I don’t want you.”

Couldn’t this wait? Until the evening of never? Clint forced a half grin onto his face, despite the sinking sensation in his stomach. “We have sex on the regular, sir. I know you want this booty.”

Phil was unfazed. “I want more than that,” he said firmly. “I wanted you to know that I want you for you. Not for your blood.”

The grin slipped off Clint’s face as Phil rose from his seat only to go down on one knee right next to Clint’s chair. There were gasps and murmurs from the tables around them but Clint paid them no mind. Heart in his throat, he whispered, "Phil, what are you doing?"

"I love you, Clint," said Phil. His voice was strong and unwavering, the words stated simply and plainly. “I love your determination even in the face of overwhelming defeat. I love that you never give up on yourself or anyone else. I love that you didn’t flinch at what I had become because you knew that I would always be who I was. And I love that you wasted no time in telling me this.”

His lips spread into a wide smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Clint felt his heart flutter in his chest.

“I can’t imagine another moment without calling you mine,” said Phil, extending his hands. “Clint, will you marry me?”

“YES!” Clint yelled, before Phil had even finished speaking.

Applause broke out around them but Clint was busy being kissed to within an inch of his life. He’d make a proper bow later.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t happen the night of their engagement. That night, they’d made love, slowly and gently, full of love and tenderness and affection. Nor did it happen the night after or the night after that. Eventually, Clint did his best to push the matter to the back of his mind.

It happened on a late Tuesday afternoon.

They lay entwined on the couch, Clint wrapped in Phil’s arms. Idly, he traced an aimless path on Phil’s forearm as the credits to the latest episode of _Dog Cops_ scrolled by. A half-empty pizza box lay on the coffee table and condensation from Clint’s second beer slowly dripped onto its battered wooden surface.

The relative coolness of Phil’s skin felt good underneath Clint’s cheek in the summer heat and he nestled further into Phil’s chest, chasing the sensation. Phil’s arms tightened slightly as he did so and Clint let out a soft sigh, perfectly content. The TV screen faded to black from inactivity and neither of them moved to put on anything else. In the quiet, Clint closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Phil’s heart. Beating once for every ten of a mortal man’s, its measured tempo suited Phil, as deliberate and consistent as he was.

Loath as he was to get up, Clint knew that Phil’s cooling body temperature meant that he should drink soon. He was just gearing himself up to offer to get one of the blood bags when Phil spoke.

“It would hurt.”

Despite his suddenly racing heart, Clint forced himself to answer calmly. “I know.”

“It’s dangerous,” Phil continued in that same soft voice. “Veins and arteries lie close together. If I misjudge, you could bleed out.”

“I know,” Clint repeated, “but you wouldn’t let me. Phil, I trust you.”

“And you’re a predator, like me.” Phil took in a huge breath, making Clint’s head rise and fall with the motion. “Clint, you’re not going to like having my fangs in your neck.”

That brought Clint up short. He trusted Phil and so his lupine instincts were normally quiescent around him. But if Phil sank his fangs into Clint’s neck, the wolf in him very well could take notice.

Clint twisted in Phil’s arms so that their gazes could meet. “I want to share myself with you,” he said quietly but firmly. “I’ll keep the wolf at bay.”

The hunger in Phil’s eyes was clear. He slid his hand along Clint’s jaw until he grasped the back of Clint’s neck. “It would be a wonderful gift,” Phil said, thumb slowly stroking Clint’s cheek, “but one that I could go my whole life without, as long as I had your love.”

Clint gave Phil a crooked grin, heart pounding in his chest. “Well, today’s your lucky day, sir,” he said. He tried for a lighthearted tone and failed utterly, emotions thickening his voice. “You can have both.”

Phil’s eyes darkened. “Come here.” He tugged Clint forward and eagerly, Clint went, moving so that he was straddling Phil’s body. Their lips met. Phil kissed him like he was drowning and Clint was his next breath of air. In return, Clint dragged his tongue over one of Phil’s incisors and smiled as Phil groaned. 

Clint felt Phil’s hand slide upwards into his hair. He tugged gently on the short strands and Clint let his head tilt back, breaking their kiss and exposing the long column of his throat. He drew in a ragged breath as Phil kissed and nipped his way from Clint’s lips down to the hollow of his throat. Quivering with tension, Clint couldn’t help but jolt every time the blunt edge of Phil’s teeth scraped the skin of his neck.

Phil roughly captured his lips again, devouring his mouth with single-minded intent, until Clint sagged against him, utterly overwhelmed by desire surging like a living thing through his veins. Breaking off the kiss with a tortured groan, Phil returned his attention to Clint's neck. This time though, Clint felt the sharp prick of Phil's fangs.

Clint froze, his entire body suddenly rigid with coiled tension. Phil had been right. The imminent threat posed by Phil's fangs sent his lupine instincts leaping to the forefront. A snarl rose from deep in his throat and Clint could feel his lips pulling back as he unintentionally bared his teeth. Flattening his hand against Phil's chest, Clint moved to shove Phil away from him when a sensation stopped him.

Underneath his palm, Phil's heart beat, steady and sure.

This wasn't some random vampire. This was Phil. His Phil. They were safe in the apartment they shared and Clint had consented to this, freely and willingly. Hell, he'd practically begged for it. Clint drew in deep lungfuls of Phil's scent. It took a few moments - his nose wasn't as good as it was in his wolf form - but it was enough. His lupine instincts subsided as he confirmed that this was in fact, his mate.

Phil hadn't moved an inch while Clint wrestled with his instincts. Good thing too, as Clint wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't have attacked Phil if he had. His fangs still rested lightly on the skin of Clint's neck, with enough pressure to be noticed but not enough to break skin. Clint closed his eyes and let himself relax, willing away the tension from his limbs until the pent-up energy of aborted fight waned somewhat. Leaving one hand over Phil's heart, Clint slid the other to the back of Phil's head and then arched his own neck, pressing gently against the sharp points of Phil's fangs.

"Please, Phil," Clint whispered.

A small noise came from Phil's throat, something like a cut-off groan. In the next moment, his fangs sank deep into Clint's neck.

At first, Clint felt nothing. The elongated incisors slid through the layers of skin, muscle, and fascia as if they were paper, smooth as butter, and all he felt was the pressure exerted to make the passage. Then pain blossomed, radiating outwards, doubling in intensity when Phil began to suck hard at the puncture wounds. Clint bit his own lip, wincing at the now throbbing ache in his neck, as Phil tried impossibly to pull him even closer, arms like iron bands around Clint’s body. 

Clint tried in vain to push down his rising panic as more and more of his blood spilled into Phil’s mouth. Usually, his faster speed won out against Phil’s greater strength, but right now he was trapped in the circle of Phil’s arms, barely able to move an inch. Taking more deep breaths, he let Phil’s scent wash over him, taking comfort in the familiar smell. As his panic slowly subsided, Clint began to take notice of other things. The ache in his neck was no worse than the initial discomfort he felt when Phil slid inside of him. The soft sounds of Phil’s mouth working were not unlike the times Phil had worried at his skin during lovemaking with lips and teeth, bringing a soft blush to his skin that sometimes took days to fade. This was just a new way for Phil to be inside of him. And this time, Clint was also inside of Phil. The blood that sustained him was now slipping down Phil’s throat, converting into the life force that kept Phil alive.

Dead. 

Undead. 

Life challenged.

He barely noticed as Phil eased his fangs out of his neck, bemused as Clint was by the thoughts floating through his head. He gave Phil a lopsided smile as Phil licked his lips, now swollen and slightly reddened. “Good?” Clint asked dreamily.

Phil looked amused. “I wasn’t sure if the thrall would affect you,” he murmured. “There aren’t too many accounts of werewolves willingly submitting to a vampire’s bite.”

Clint wasn’t really listening. He was transfixed by the movement of Phil’s mouth, the shape of his lips and teeth as they formed vowels and consonants. Before Phil could react, Clint covered Phil’s lips with his own, licking at their seam until Phil let him inside with a soft groan. Tangling his tongue with Phil’s, he tasted the lingering coppery tang of his own blood. Pressing closer, Clint luxuriated in the warmth emanating from Phil’s body, the way his arms tightened around Clint, the way he kissed with Clint with unbridled passion. There was no up or down, no here or there. Time had no meaning because there was only this. And this was love, messy and imperfect, silly and sublime, universal and infinite. 

“Good?” Clint asked again when Phil pulled back, giving him a chance to catch his breath. He smiled at his love, his mate, his Phil.

Little lines creased the corners of Phil’s eyes as his lips curved upwards in kind. “Far better than good,” he replied. “Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and comments are appreciated. :)


End file.
